


A Helping Arm?

by Okamichan6942



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-10
Updated: 2008-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okamichan6942/pseuds/Okamichan6942
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet has something for Wheeljack</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Arm?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Ironman. But you can probably enjoy it without having seen the movie, too... maybe... possibly?

"Wheeljack, I brought you a present."

Wheeljack turned from his latest contraption to look at the thing that Ratchet wheeled in. He lifted a brow ridge, vocal lights flashing dimly. "You brought me... an arm?"

Ratchet blinked and then snorted. "Not just an arm. It has everything you could possibly want on it." He began flipping through the various fingers attached to the 'arm.' "It has a laser scalpel, a fire extinguisher, an arc welder, a drill, a fire extinguisher, wrench, screwdriver, fire extinguisher, drill, saw, hammer, fire extinguisher..."

"Just how many fire extinguishers do you think I need?"

Ratchet smirked, and flipped a switch. The machine hummed to life, turning a lens on the end of its arm to look at the white mech. "Oh, it has more than enough for you, Wheeljack."

At the name, the arm swung around to look at the inventor. A pleased hum sounded from its systems.

"You know I don't like drones, Ratchet."

The white mech grinned in his most charming manner (which wasn't saying much) and moved toward the door. "It's there to help you, if you need it." With that the medic slipped out.

Wheeljack watched the arm roll toward him. It chirped at him and he narrowed his optics at it. Then he turned back to his project on the counter. Another hum and suddenly cold washed over his frame. He jerked around, certain to find Ratchet standing there.

Only the arm looked at him, one of its nozzles smoking gently.

Wheeljack looked at the foam covering his torso, flicking it off his arms, and glared at the machine. "I hate you."


End file.
